


Colour Me Free

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trans, Anxiety Attacks, Coming Out, Coming Out (Transgender), Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Panic Attacks, Phan - Freeform, Trans Dan Howell, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: At age 25, Dan Howell doesn't want to hide anymore. The problem is, it's not exactly easy to tell your boyfriend of 7 years that you're not a girl.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Troye Sivan's "HEAVEN"
> 
> Been working on this since December and it's finally done!! I actually rewrote this and the original was only 5.2k so higher quality and quantity for you all!
> 
> This is loosely based off of my own experiences as being a trans guy (especially with emotions when coming out and childhood stuff), and inspired by where I was originally going to take "Regrets Almost Made" before I realized how illogical my plan was.
> 
> So yeah, enjoy!!

Yazi’s childhood wasn’t particularly interesting, although it wasn’t exactly typical of most children. Her first so-called friends were the children of her parents’ friends, whom she’d play games with, roll down the hill by the nearby park, climb trees, and build things in the sandbox. Almost all of them were boys, which she didn’t think twice about, and neither did her parents. She tended to prefer to wear trousers as opposed to skirts, mainly because she didn’t see the appeal, but also because it made it hard to run and play on the playground equipment.

Her parents never forced her to play with toys, although she was frequently gifted dolls and various other toys that would be discarded within a few days. Her favourite toys were her many plushies, especially the many Winnie the Pooh themed gifts. The same was with clothing, and Yazi was happy to rarely don a skirt or dress. Her room was painted a warm orangish-brown, and there wasn’t a vast assortment of coloured clothing in her wardrobe. So, Yazi’s early life was spent without much of a care in the world.

It wasn’t until she got a bit older that her feelings started to change. As her body started to change, she began to grow more and more uncomfortable in it, but the reason as to why was a mystery to her. She knew it was a normal part of life, she’d had the puberty lesson in school and when it was being taught to her and explained with pictures it seemed harmless. But then, when she actually began to experience it first hand, there was a certain kind of deep-seated panic that came with it that she couldn’t explain. She’d heard many stories of people who grew to love their bodies, but somehow couldn’t see herself being among those individuals. However, she chose to just grin and bear it, attempting to ignore how much she despised her developing curves.

Throughout most of her early teen years she stuck to wearing oversized jumpers and hoodies, as well as baggy t-shirts. Anything that would lessen the prominence of her hips and waist were a go, which people often singled her out for. In her all-girls secondary school, a uniform was required, although she often received detentions for not following it. Whilst opting for loose jeans and huge jumpers definitely was better than the restricting skirt-clad uniform, it still wasn’t enough.

More often than not she’d find herself staring at her body in the mirror when changing, trying to imagine herself without the wider hips and thinned waist. She would squeeze her thighs, push her breasts apart to give the illusion of being more flat-chested, even using her hands to block out the curves of her waist, but in the end she had no idea why she did these things, and would try to act as if nothing had even happened. Subconsciously she began wearing sports bras more often than not, and somehow it seemed to help, even if in the smallest of ways.

When she began dating, it was interesting. She was able to recognize early on having crushes on both boys and girls, even if it was most often the former. She found herself dating only boys, as she was unsure as to what reaction it would garner from her parents were she to date a girl. She didn’t date often, having only two consistent boyfriends throughout secondary school and 6th form, the longest lasting two whole years. Through that time she collected a fair few articles of their clothing, mainly small things such as boxers or hoodies, but even after the breakups she’d find herself wearing them frequently over her own clothing. It wasn’t due to sentiment, but she couldn’t really figure out why exactly she did it, or why it felt so calming to wear.

It was 2007 when she found AmazingPhil one late night watching YouTube videos, and she was immediately drawn in by his humor and creativity, quickly subscribing and watching through all of his videos. For the next few years, she’d go to his channel whenever she needed a distraction, whether from things going on around her or from her own thoughts. It took her two years and a Twitter account to finally make contact with Phil, and they quickly formed a strong friendship. It didn’t take long before Yazi began to fall for him, and she knew there was no going back once she slipped.

It was mid-September of 2009 that she gets a haircut on impulse. There was no real reasoning behind it, just that it felt like what she needed to do. So, she went to a unisex hair salon and requested a cut similar to Phil’s, and left considerably happier and feeling infinitely lighter. That happiness wasn’t long lasting, however, as the second she reached home her father began shouting at her, saying how people already thought she was a butch lesbian as it was, and whilst her mother said nothing of it the disapproving look she received told her enough. She immediately Skyped Phil, who showered her in compliments as she cried, both over her parents’ reaction and the overall bottled up emotions.

Early the next month, Phil helps her to finally gather enough courage to make her own YouTube videos. They spend five hours on Skype going over scripting and how to edit it together, Yazi asking so many clarifying questions that they’re both so exhausted by the end of it that they fall asleep while the call is still live. When the finished product is uploaded, Phil pushes out the link to “HELLO INTERNET” to his own followers, giving Yazi a huge boost in attention straight off the bat. A week later Yazi found herself at Manchester Piccadilly meeting Phil in person for the first time, and it’s later that same day that they share their first kiss. After that weekend, their relationship is much more defined, and they don’t spend more than two weeks apart from each other.

Yazi started at University of Manchester in 2010, and while she technically lived in the dorms for the first year, she spent most of her time (and kept most of her things) at Phil’s flat, and by the start of her second year she’s fully moved in. Their YouTube content became semi-merged, but separate enough that their video styles were still unique to themselves. Their relationship was kind of an unspoken fact within their fan base, so they never felt the need to touch on it, even when one of Phil’s old private video messages for Yazi was accidentally unprivated. Things just went smoothly, at least to the public eye.

Their relationship was near perfect, of course having occasional rough patches as any healthy relationship will, but Yazi would still often fall into panic attacks that she couldn’t explain, usually over things as simple as seeing herself in the mirror without clothes, or being offered dresses. Phil would try endlessly to console her, reassuring her that her body was beautiful and even if it wasn’t that looks don’t matter as much as personality does. Despite his efforts, nothing would ever get through, even if Yazi so desperately wished it would help.

The path to figuring out what was happening wasn’t much of a path. The best way it could be described was a blurred clump of time where many things happened at once and in no real order but still managed to fall together in the end. It may have been the old interview with a girl named Jazz who had been “born in the wrong body” that she found in late-2012, or the various other videos that she clicked into from it that set off the connection. Maybe it was the increase of media attention on transgender people, or the sudden surge in information posts on social media starting around 2014, but somewhere along the line something began to click that maybe this was what she was experiencing. One day in early 2015 she found herself typing into the YouTube search bar “am i transgender,” and finding a video from a YouTuber called “Ty Turner” called “How To Tell If You Are Transgender.” It’s from the advice found there that she began to think maybe she wasn’t a “she” but rather a “he.”

Before then he’d never thought much of pronouns, but once he’d come to that conclusion, every usage of she/her pronouns began to feel like a blow to the stomach. It took only a month after watching the video and reading countless articles and blog posts to know that this had to be what he was experiencing. The feeling was about as difficult to describe as it would be to describe colour to someone who’s blind. Somehow, the label just fit, and he knew that this was who he is.

It took another month before he decided on the name Daniel, or Dan, chosen from what his parents would have named him had he been born biologically male. The night he finally decided on it he stood in front of their bathroom mirror and said it aloud to himself, which lead to tears of relief and happiness at finally figuring out why he’d felt wrong his entire life. This joy, unfortunately, wasn’t long lived. While he then knew which name and pronouns he felt most comfortable with, no one else did, and it become more and more painful to hear his birthname and improper pronouns directed towards himself

As they began to gain more and more popularity and attention, it became increasingly difficult to deal with the constant stream of misgendering. With their book and tour it was impossible to avoid, having to constantly self-misgender himself in order to maintain secrecy, as well as his own boyfriend unknowingly misgendering him. While the book is easier to deal with as once it’s done it’s done, the tour is a whole other monster. The show itself isn’t all that bad, although of course it’s a constant stream of “Yazi,” “Yaz,” or “she/her/hers,” but the VIP meet and greets are the real hell. Meeting thousands of his subscribers, more and more almost every day, all of whom knew him as “Yazi” and referred to him as such, was one of the most awful experiences of his life. Had he been out, maybe then he could have fully enjoyed it, as he really does love meeting subscribers, but the constant misgendering sucked away every bit of enjoyment he could have possibly derived from it.

This lead to a full on mental breakdown halfway through the first leg of the tour, which he credited to stress when questioned by Phil. It’s this that prompted him to investigate online therapy sessions. Seeing as he was both incredibly busy and also unable to leave the house for fear of being discovered, online therapy worked wonders, and the knowledge that someone else other than himself knew that he was really a man in itself drastically improved his mental health. It didn’t take long for his therapist to approve him for hormone therapy, but he opted to wait until the tours were finished before continuing. This allowed him time to get the necessary blood work done during October, making it possible for him upon approval to start testosterone whenever he felt right.

So, because of this, Dan got his first testosterone shot on December 28th, 2016, the day before Phil returned from visiting his family up north. He’d taken into careful consideration the timing of things, and knew that it would take a couple months before the obvious physical effects of the hormones would begin to set in. Therefore he had time to tell Phil himself before his own body outed him. The plan was that this would force him to finally come clean to Phil about everything, but now that the plan was in motion, everything seemed much more terrifying and the possibility of everything going wrong much more daunting.

And this is how he finds himself a week after his first injection, sitting with his back pressed against the wall of their bathroom, gripping his sides tightly as tears stream down his face, breathing heavily. His hair is in messy curls reaching his shoulders, falling before his eyes as if to tauntingly remind him of his current situation. He’s wearing nothing but a sports bra, a pair of Phil’s colourful boxers and some grey trackies that he can’t remember to which of them they belong. His body trembles as he sobs, and he reaches up to angrily wipe away his tears. He rises from his position shakely, not daring to look at himself in the mirror, and opens one of the drawers where they keep their toiletries. His hands quickly find their way to a pair of scissors, picking it out and shifting it to his left hand. With his right, he reaches up and grabs a clump of his hair, drawing it away from his head and bringing the scissors to it, quickly snipping through it and letting it fall into the sink before him.

He feels the adrenaline rushing through him, the surge of euphoria provided simply by the removal of something as small as his hair. So again and again, he cuts through it, more and more hair falling through the air, landing on the counter or the tiles of the floor. Eventually what’s left is an uneven cut similar to Phil’s, if not a bit shorter in the front. He sets down the scissors shakily, taking in his appearance. The cut is messy, some areas longer than others, but that doesn’t stop the rush of joy surging through him. He reaches down into the drawer once more, taking ahold of a roll of ace bandages. He pulls off his sports bra, careful not to look at his chest as he does so, and then begins to wrap the fabric around his chest tightly, ignoring the twinge of pain that comes from the actions.

He secures it with a clip, and then looks at himself once more. He can’t help but let out a pitiful laugh. He looks like an absolute mess; his tear tracks still visible, bandages wrapped around his chest, and a crude haircut. Yet, despite this, he looks _masculine_ , dare he say almost passing, and that’s enough to make him feel euphoric. That is, until he remembers.

Phil.

He’ll be back soon. He’d told Dan that he’d be going out for a few hours and that time was almost out. Dan was _definitely_ not willing to tell him when he looked like _this_. The tremor in his hands returns as he shakily begins scooping up all of the hair and moving it to the bin, trying to cover up any signs of what had transpired. Once he makes sure all the hair is disposed of, he hurries up the stairs into the main part of their flat, rushing down the hallway. For once he’s thankful for their lack of storage, as he can quickly grab a small backpack out of their pile of shit, probably still there from their European tour traveling. He hurries into their main bedroom, throwing the bag onto the bed. His mind is racing but he’s aware enough to immediately to begin picking up clothes and throwing them in the general direction of the bag. He picks up the Jake hoodie he got Phil nearly three years ago for his birthday and pulls it over his head, not caring how huge it is on him.

Dan grabs a couple pairs of Phil’s boxers from their dresser before returning to the backpack, shoving all the clothes to the bottom. He then picks up his charger and wallet from his bedside table, making sure he still has his phone in his pocket before zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He leaves the room, weaving his way in between the junk piles and heading back down the corridor. He pauses as he passes the lounge, and then in a split-second decision darts inside. It takes him a moment to spot the post-it note block on one of their shelves, and a few more to locate a pen. Then he begins to write, trying to make his handwriting as legible as possible.

 

_phil i’m so sorry, this isn’t something i planned on happening_

_but i guess things don’t always go to plan. i have to go away_

_for a little while, but don’t worry, because i’m fine, i just need_

_some time to think some things over. this has nothing to do with_

_you, i promise you did absolutely nothing wrong. i love you xxx_

 

He hesitates before signing it as “-bear.” It an old affectionate pet name Phil had given him way back in 2009, and he hadn’t used it often since early 2011. It just added some sentiment to the message to make it apparent that it is in fact him. Phil has a tendency to overthink things sometimes, so there’s the possibility he could jump to the conclusion that he’d been kidnapped or something along those lines. He sets the note down in the middle of their table, before turning and hurrying down the stairs and exiting the flat, making sure to lock the door behind him. He descends the remaining flights, pulling up his hood as he goes, and leaves the building, walking out onto the pavement. The sun is low in the sky, almost at sunset considering it’s already 5pm in the middle of January.

It takes him a moment to realize he doesn’t know where to go from here. He mentally runs through his options. His parents are out of the question, going off of their reaction to him simply cutting his hair back in 2009 they probably wouldn’t be the most accepting people. The next option on the list is Phil’s family, and especially considering that he feels more comfortable and closer to them than his own family, that seems like the best choice. Out of all of them he’s closest to Martyn and Cornelia due to the closeness in both age and distance. If that doesn’t work, he can try contacting some of their friends.

With that thought in mind he begins to make his way towards the Underground entrance just up the street. He takes long strides, looking down and doing his best to dodge past others without making eye contact. As he hurries down the steps he stumbles, nearly falling over. He steadies himself before biting his lip and moving forward, scanning his Oyster card as we walks into the station. He quickly finds a tube heading toward Martyn and Cornelia’s flat, seeing it won’t arrive for couple minutes. So, he leans his back against the wall of the crowded station and waits, impatiently gnawing at his lip.

There aren’t many people on the platform, a few university student milling around, a middle-aged woman talking hurriedly on the phone a few feet away, and several people in suits, some carrying briefcases. Despite the tiny number of people, he feels exposed. He could swear the one of the uni students had looked at him before they began animatedly talking to their friends, and that one of the businessmen had shot him a look of disgust. He attempts to make himself appear as small as he possibly can taking into account that he’s just under 6’. He perks up when he hears the rumbling of the tube, quickly darting inside a car when the doors open.

There are many more people in the tube than were on the platform, so he squeezes his way into the minimal space, grasping the overhead bar. The lack of space doesn’t help the tightness he’s already experiencing in his chest. He shifts his shoulders in discomfort, grimacing when the movement does little to nothing to help the problem. The tube sways back and forth as it travels, jostling Dan occasionally. Not that he notices it, being far too drawn into the darkest corners of his mind.

His brain is supplying all the worst possible scenarios that could occur from coming out. Phil could not accept that he’s actually a man, he could get angry at him for keeping it secret, he could break up with him, he could kick him out. He’ll have nowhere to go. There’s no way his parents will accept that he’s trans _and_ needs a place to stay. He’ll be homeless, he’ll have to find a new flat and he’ll probably lose all of his friends and oh god, this is all so much more terrifying when it’s no longer a “what if” in his corner of his mind.

He nearly falls over as the tube comes to a stop, and he realizes that he’s reached his stop. Somehow ten minutes had passed without him even noticing. He quickly gets off, bumping into someone as he goes.

“Watch it,” he hears the man say in a gruff tone, and he shrinks away, keeping his eyes down. He hurries away, hurrying out of a small flight of stairs and pulling his Oyster card out of his pocket. Then suddenly he slams straight into someone, somehow managing to keeps his balance, and his head whips up to meet the eyes of a young girl, probably uni age.

“Sorry!” he says quickly. There’s a brief moment where all he feels is embarrassment from running into yet another person. But then, as he watches as her face warp into an expression of shock and excitement, he feels his stomach twist.

“Oh my god you’re Yaz-”

“Yeah, I am, but I’m so sorry I’m in a huge rush and don’t have any time for photos or anything, I’m sure you’re a lovely person but I really have to go,” he says, trying to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible. The feeling of guilt grows stronger when he sees her poorly masked disappointment.

“Oh. It’s okay I understand,” she says, giving him an obviously forced smile. “Do you think I could get a hug at least?”

Dan sighs, but smiles in a way that he hopes appears genuine, opening his arms to the younger girl. Her eyes light up and she immediately moves forward, capturing him in a tight embrace that he tries his best to reciprocate. He can only hope she doesn’t notice and talk about how flat his chest is. As he pulls back he smiles down at her apologetically.

“I really am so sorry about this, hopefully I can meet you again in the future!” he says, and the only response he gets is a small nod. The girl looks close to crying and he feels so unbelievably guilty but he doesn’t know how much longer he can talk to her before she either misgenders him or notices his hair and/or chest. “Goodbye, I hope you have a lovely day!”

He turns and hurries away, the feeling in his stomach only getting progressively worse. He bites his lip hard and his vision begins to blur as he rushes towards the exit of the station, swiping his Oyster card as he goes. He only makes it a few steps out on the street before he feels the tears begin to fall, and he wipes them away roughly, continuing to hurry closer to Martyn and Cornelia's flat.

By the time he finds the correct building his ribs are aching and he can feel the beginnings of a tear induced headache pounding on his skull. As he walk up to the door he fumbles around in his pocket, pulling out his keychain. Martyn had given him a spare key, not trusting it to Phil due to his experience with how easily Phil loses things, and considering that the only other keys he has are to his and Phil’s flat and his parent’s house, it doesn’t take long for him to find it. He unlocks to door shakily, stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him. He sighs before making his way up the stairs to where the doors to Martyn and Cornelia’s and their neighbor’s flat are. He remembers easily from his and Phil’s visit that theirs is the left door so he takes a deep breath, steeling himself before ringing the buzzer.

There’s a few moments before he hears a shuffling behind the door and it’s suddenly pulled open, revealing a surprised looking Martyn who appears to still be wearing his pyjamas.

“Oh, uh, hey Yaz-” he starts.

“Can I come in? You’re the first place I thought to go to,” Dan cuts in, wincing slightly at the beginning part of his birthname. Martyn’s expression morphs to one of concern, but he steps to the side.

“Yeah, of course. Is something going on? You look like you’ve been crying,” he says in a gentle tone.

“Kind of. It’s complicated,” he replies vaguely, brushing past him and making his way to the lounge. He drops the backpack next to the sofa before sitting down, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort.

“What’s happened? Does this have to do with Phil?” Martyn asks upon entering the room. Dan clutches his sides, attempting to make himself as small as possible.

“It might at some point but not now. I just-” he cuts himself off, looking up at Martyn who’s staring down at him with a very confused and worried look on his face. So Dan does all that he can think to do to even begin explaining what’s going on; he reaches up and pushes back his hood, revealing his haircut. Martyn’s expression doesn’t change much, if not appearing even more confused than before.

“Yazi what-”

“Don’t call me that. Please, please just don’t call me that,” he interrupts him, and that definitely changes Martyn’s expression. The confusion is still there, but now the concern is back, mingled with shock this time. Dan looks down, feeling the tears beginning to brim again. He really should drink some water or something, his headache is really not helping this situation. This time, he lets himself fall apart. He surprises himself with more tears falling than what had come the last two times in the past hour or two. He keeps looking down at his feet, refusing to make eye contact with Martyn.

“What’s going on? I can only help if you tell me,” Martyn says quietly, and Dan hears him sit down in a chair. Dan is quiet for a little while, sniffling occasionally and wiping away any tears that fall. When he looks up again he still avoids looking towards Martyn.

“This is something that I’ve known for a few years now but I haven’t talked about it because this is terrifying for me and I’m such a coward because I knew Phil was going to find out but I still ran away when that became closer to reality than a hypothetical and now I’m here and I’m so so fucking terrified right now that he’ll hate me and kick me out which is probably irrational but none of my thoughts are rational right now and I can’t think straight but fuck I couldn’t stand it any longer so I ran and came here because you’re the closest person that I trust and-” he finally looks back to Martyn, noticing quickly the unimpressed look he’s directing at him due to the rambling. He looks back down at his lap, gripping his sides tightly. “Martyn, I’m transgender.”

His voice cracks on the word. He’s never said it out loud to another person other than his therapist and it feels like both a burden being lifted but also the fear replacing it is almost as bad. He hears Martyn inhale sharply.

“Oh.”

It doesn’t do much to help his anxiety but at least he’s not screaming for him to leave and never come back. He sniffs, taking Martyn’s silence as a signal to go on.

“The stress for the past two years of tour and the books and the constant misgendering coming from those things have been so awful and just mentally exhausting that I can’t take it anymore, I can’t live in the shadows anymore but this is so fucking terrifying. I’m so scared all my subscribers will hate me, and that Phil will leave me-”

“Phil wouldn’t leave you over something like this. He loves you so much it’s honestly sickening. And anyways, if your subscribers hated you over it, why would you want them here anyways? If people aren’t supportive of you they can shove it.”

Dan’s body is still shaking slightly but he looks over at Martyn again. “Thanks,” he murmurs quietly, and Martyn smiles at him kindly.

“It’s the least I can do,” he responds, before taking a moment to think. “Based upon my slightly limited knowledge on this sort of thing, I’m assuming that you prefer a different name to Yazi?”

“It’s not exactly a preference, but, uh, Dan is the one I’ve chosen to go by. And if you haven’t gathered, using he/him pronouns when referring to me would be great as well,” he explains, and Martyn nods.

“Right, ok. I’m probably going to slip up on that for a while but I promise it’s not intentional,” he says, and Dan smiles shyly, any remaining fears about this quickly subsiding. Someone who he’s known for years and plays a pretty decent role in his life knows. Someone other than his therapist knows he’s a boy. “And you know, Dan and Phil _does_ have a nice ring to it.”

Dan beams.

* * *

 

It’s not until later that night that the discomfort in his back and ribs starts to really effect him. The aching and twinges of pain have been on and off for the past few hours, but have now leveled out to a constant tight pain that makes him feel like he can’t breathe. And maybe he actually can’t breathe properly, but he’s still ignoring it. It’s been a couple hours since Cornelia returned from work, and things went about as smoothly as they did with Martyn. Upon her arrival home Martyn had stopped her in the hallway and given her a basic rundown of what was going on. It had only been a few minutes before she ran into the room and given him a very secure hug, going on about how she wishes he had said something sooner and that he shouldn’t have had to suffer in silence. The exchange had nearly brought Dan to tears once more, but for once he managed to hold it together.

But now, the moment has passed and all he can really focus on is the worsening pain in his chest and back and how restricted his breathing feels. He tries rolling his shoulders again, grimacing when if anything it only helps to worsen the discomfort.

“Dan are you ok?” Cornelia asks from across the room. The casual use of his name gives him a small rush of euphoria but he’s quickly distracted by a twinge of pain in his side. Martyn looks up from his laptop as well, giving Dan a concerned look.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I have an ache in my side is all,” he replies, playing down the extent of the problem in order to avoid worrying them further. He continues scrolling through Twitter on his phone, having to use it because he’d forgotten to grab his laptop in his hurry to leave the flat.

“Are you using any kind of compression methods on your chest?” Martyn asks, which makes Dan look up in surprise because that’s not something he’d expect Martyn to know about.

“Uh yeah, actually, I put on an ace bandage before I left the flat-”

“You what?! Yazi- sorry, _Dan_ you need to go take that off now, those can seriously hurt you,” Martyn yelps, sticken. He closes his laptop and sets it to the side, exchanging a look with Cornelia who looks just as concerned.

“How do you-”

“There was an incident where a guy at one of the tour stops in America passed out because he was wearing one of those and we had to help out. He said they can cause serious health issues but he had wanted to ‘pass’ or something when meeting you and Phil,” Cornelia explains. “Please go take it off, we don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Dan looks back and forth between them, a pleading look in his eyes. Yes, he knows it’s not healthy, he knew that before he even put the bandage on, but this is the flattest his chest has been in _years_ , he can stand a bit of discomfort.

“Don’t make me take it off, please,” he says, mentally cringing at how pathetic he sounds. Though he supposes that’s what he is if he’s uncaring that he’s knowingly wearing something that can deform and break his ribs.

“We aren’t going to budge on this, you need to take it off and I think you know that, too. Look, if you go take it off I’ll look up some safe methods that can make your chest flat, alright?” Martyn says, and after a moment of mental turmoil he sighs, defeated. He replaces his phone in his pocket, before standing and going to his bag, fishing out a sports bra, and trudging off to the bathroom.

Once he shuts the door behind him, he takes a moment to look himself over in the mirror. His face is still a bit blotchy from all the crying he’s done today, his red patch on his cheek is prominent, and his hair is definitely a mess, but he doesn’t hate the way he looks for once. Not entirely, at least. His feature still have a soft and feminine shape to them, his body fat hasn’t started distributing yet, and his shoulders aren’t nearly as wide as he wishes they were, but he still looks masculine, at least more so than usual. As he pulls off the hoodie he takes a deep breath (probably not the best choice as it causes pain to shoot up his sides) and shuts his eyes.

He fumbles with the clasp on the bandage for a minute and then quickly unravels the cloth, feeling the pressure on his chest greatly diminish. He refuses to open his eyes, not wanting to ruin the euphoria he’s felt by looking at one of the thing he hates most about his body, and quickly pulls the sports bra over his head after taking in some more slow breaths. It’s not until he has to find the hoodie once more that he opens his eyes, still not daring to look in the mirror. He relishes in the bagginess of the yellow hoodie, how it hides his oh so hated curves. Dan lifts the fabric to his nose, breathing in Phil’s scent. Even when he’s literally hiding from him, the smell of Phil serves to calm him quickly.

He rolls up the ace bandage as he leaves the bathroom, slumping his shoulders a bit subconsciously in order to make his chest less prominent. When he returns to the lounge Martyn looks up and gestures for him to come over. As he approaches, Martyn pushes his laptop farther down his legs and turns it so that Dan can see it while standing next to him.

“So I found a couple websites that sell compression vests, I think they’re usually called binders?” Martyn asks, looking to Dan for confirmation. Dan nods, looking at the screen before him. “One is called Underworks, which has mixed reviews, and the other is called gc2b, that one is specifically binders made for trans people.”

“That second website definitely rings a bell, but I’m pretty sure Underworks isn’t very reputable,” he replies, pausing for a moment. “Do you think I could maybe, uh, use your laptop to order some of those?”

Martyn instantly nods, scooting over so Dan can sit down and passing him the laptop when he does. For a good fifteen minutes he goes through, selecting colours and length combinations that he thinks will come in handy. He mainly sticks to skin tone, black, and grey, only getting one white one and avoiding the more colourful varieties. Once he’s picked them all out, he checks out quickly and lets out a deep breath, passing Martyn back the laptop.

“We understand that you want to feel comfortable, but you should never put your health at risk to do so, we can’t allow that. We care a lot about your wellbeing, you know,” Cornelia says, and Dan looks up at them, biting his lip gently in an attempt to hold back any of his remaining tears. (In the end, he fails)

* * *

 

He isn’t quite sure how it happens, but suddenly it’s it’s the second morning he’s woken up in Martyn and Cornelia’s spare bedroom, and his guilt is only continuing to grow worse and worse. He knows he can’t avoid this forever, the binders will get there eventually, and he knows that Phil is probably confused and scared over his safety. He hasn’t turned on his phone since the night he got here, having turned it off when he received a text from Phil at 11pm asking if he was okay. He knows he’s worrying Phil, he knows he’s worrying his friends, but he’s trying with all the strength that he can muster to act as if nothing is wrong. Of course it only takes a matter of time before he’s drawn back to reality

He’s lying in bed, not doing anything other than stare at the pattern of the duvet, cocooned into a very warm jumble of blankets. It’s around eight in the morning, not the usual time he’d be awake but then again, he didn’t sleep more than a couple hours the night prior. It’s hard to sleep when he’s more aware of the empty spot beside him than when he usually is when Phil’s away. He can hear birds outside and there’s a bit of sunlight filtering into the room through the blinds, but he can’t bring himself to focus on it. So, when he hears the gentle knock on the door he jumps, sitting upright quickly and rubbing his eyes.

“Come in,” he murmurs, and the door opens, standing in the doorway a very stern looking Martyn. It’s not often that he’s seen Martyn with that expression, but at least this time it seems softer than the last time he saw it.

“I got a call from Phil last night.”

“Oh,” Dan says, unsure of how else to respond.

“He asked if I knew anything about where you’ve gone,” Martyn carries on, and Dan tenses slightly at that. “I told him I hadn’t.”

Dan silently stares at him, biting his lip nervously.

“I haven’t lied to him like that since we were kids, and I think that says something,” Martyn points out, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You can’t go on like this, Dan.”

Dan is trying to focus all of his attention on fiddling with a string on one of the blankets, attempting to ignore the tremor in his hands. It doesn’t take him long to give up, tucking his hands in between his thighs in an attempt to get them to stop moving.

“I know,” he whispers, shifting nervously on the spot. “I know, I know it’s hurting him, and I don’t want that, god I’d never want that for him, but I’m so, so fucking terrified, Martyn. I don’t know what to do.”

Martyn reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not just hurting him, it’s hurting you. I won’t pretend to understand what it’s like, but I can imagine how afraid you might feel right now. The fact of the matter is that that fear will never ease if you don’t go to him and talk this out,” he says, and Dan shaking begins to progress.

“But what if he hates me, what if he thinks I’m disgusting and kicks me out, what if he doesn’t love me anymore, what if-”

“You won’t know unless you talk to him. And anyways, I can almost guarantee that he won’t do any of those things. You know as well as I do how wonderful and caring Phil is, and he loves you with everything that he has. And if anything were to happen, you’re welcome to stay here until I talk some sense into him,” Martyn says, earning a weak chuckle from him.

“Alright, I’ll go after I get something to eat. If you don’t mind, of course?” Dan asks, to which Martyn simply smiles.

“Sure. And try not to worry yourself too much, I can assure you everything will go fine,” he responds.

Dan really hopes that he’s telling the truth.

* * *

 

It’s nearly half past nine when he finds himself standing at the end of his street. The tube ride back seems as if it was much faster than the first, and now that the thing he’s been running from is drawing closer and closer, he’s growing more and more anxious. His hands shake at his sides as he starts walking, and he fumbles with the strings of Phil’s York hoodie in an attempt to occupy them. Before he knows it he’s stood in front of their flat, and he can’t help but stop and look up at the windows, wondering if this will be the last time he sees this place. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind before unlocking the door into the building, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.

For once it seems as if all is quiet, something hard to come by in a city like London. He breaks the silence by walking up the set of stairs separating him from the flat. He pauses on the landing, heart beating rapidly and his hands and knees shaking beyond belief. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself to little avail. He fumbles with the keys once more, finding the right one with some difficulty and turning the lock slowly. He quietly enters, trying not to give away that he’s back just yet. He’s unsure if Phil is even awake, but he remains cautious, closing the door in a way to make sure it doesn’t creak. His heart rate only speeds up moreso once he enters, but he proceeds to take cautious steps up the many stairs in their flat.

He doesn’t know why it surprises him when things look mostly the same. It’s not like he’s been gone for long, but for some reason, some part of him expected things to look vastly different to when he left. All of their nicknacks are still scattered around in various places, there’s still a small stack of papers on their table in the lounge, and Phil’s plants look about the same, maybe some slightly wilted. The only marked difference is that he hasn’t seen Phil yet. Dan stops at the top of the stairs across from their lounge, waiting and attempting to pull himself together so that he can do this. He sets his bag to the side, biting his lip as he builds up courage.

“Phil?” he calls softly, immediately his body tensing. When there’s no response after a couple minutes, he debates briefly before making his way quietly down the hall, nudging open Phil’s bedroom door.

It’s not Phil’s bedroom, exactly. They alternate between beds depending on the day, but when one of them is staying up late and would rather not wake the other, they stay in the room that they usually film their videos in. That’s why it surprises him when he finds that Phil isn’t in his room, the bed empty and bare of a duvet, as well as slightly unmade. He frowns slightly before turning to check in his own room, the door to which is slightly ajar.

What he finds is a mostly dark room, but lying wrapped up in the blankets in the centre of the bed is Phil himself, and Dan has to take a moment to compose himself.

He looks tired, as if he’s barely slept at all these past couple days, which very well may be the case, but he can hope that it isn’t true. His hair is pushed away from his face in a messier version of a quiff, and he seems to have forgotten to take his glasses off the night before as they’re now hanging off his face, pressing against his cheeks.

Dan waits a moment before approaching the bed, reaching out and gently shaking Phil’s arm. He has to do this now or he’s never going to work up the courage. He watches as Phil’s face scrunches up, groaning softly. Dan feels his knees begin to shake again.

“Phil,” he says, slightly louder than he had the time before. Phil opens his eyes, blinking a couple times before squinting up at Dan, and for a moment he feels like he can’t breathe. That moment of them staring at each other seems to last much longer than it probably did, but when it ends, it ends suddenly. Phil’s mind seems to finally register who’s standing in front of him, and suddenly he’s sat bolt upright, his hands flying to grasp Dan’s arms, staring up at him wide eyed. His glasses are nearly falling off and Dan doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

“You’re back,” Phil breaths, and Dan nods shakily. “I was so scared, I know you left a note but it was so sudden and I couldn’t help but think the worst.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, smiling weakly. _Come on Dan, you can do this_ , he thinks. He takes a deep breath, meeting Phil’s gaze again. “But I need to talk to you about something.”

Phil’s expression shifts from one of relief to one of apprehension and slight fear. As he pushes his glasses back into place, Dan feels a sudden urge to reach out and smooth the worry lines.

“What is it?”

“I-it’s not a bad thing, well, d-depending on how you t-t-take it,” he mumbles, his voice beginning to shake.

Phil looks up at him, still looking very concerned, clad in pajamas and surrounded by blankets, and nods. Dan takes a moment to attempt to collect himself, wringing out his fingers absentmindedly. Then, he reaches back and pulls back his hood, running a hand through his messy curls. Phil’s reaction to that is minimal, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘is that all?’ Because if this were just about a haircut, Phil would be right. That’s no reason for all this anxiety. But it’s so much more than that, and Dan is scared, so unbelievably scared at what may come of this discussion. He looks down at his feet, clutching his sides in a death grip.

“Phil, I’m transgender,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “I-I’m not a girl, I’m not Yazi, or Yaz, or- or any of that. I’m a boy, and m-my name is Dan.”

Silence.

Dan shuts his eyes, unable to work up the courage to see what expression Phil’s face now holds. Disgust? Anger? Sympathy? Confusion? Or maybe, possibly, one of acceptance? But he can’t bring himself to find out, simply standing there, shaking more and more uncontrollably by the second. He feels the tears building up, but refuses to let them fall. He can’t, not now, not when he needs to stay composed.

“Please say _something_ ,” he whispers, digging his nails into his sides. The silence drags on, although he’s not sure if it’s because there’s nothing happening or because everything is being drowned out. He feels as if he’s spiraling downward, slowly losing his grasp on his emotions and the reality around him. Is he falling? He kind of feels like he’s falling, but at the same time he can still feel solid ground beneath his feet. Has Phil left the room? Has Phil rejected him? He doesn’t know and a new wave of terror is running through his veins.

But then, he feels two strong arms wrap around him, and suddenly he’s grounded again, the sounds around him flooding back into focus. He returns Phil’s embrace, clutching onto him as if he’s his lifeline, and suddenly he feels like he can breath again. Phil isn’t rejecting him. Phil doesn’t hate him. Phil’s still comforting him after this. It takes a moment for him to realize that he’s crying, tears soaking into the front of Phil’s t-shirt, and he sniffles. Phil gently sways them back and forth, gently shushing him, cradling the back of his head in a way that he knows, after years of comforting Dan, helps him to calm down. He rubs Dan’s back gently, and he only clutches onto him tighter.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, everything's okay, you’re okay,” he says gently. Dan feels a bit of his nerves lift, starting to believe Phil’s words. “I love you so, so much. You’re so brave, you are so fucking brave. My beautiful, brave boyfriend.”

It’s the boyfriend remark that makes him start sobbing with renewed vigor, clutching even tighter, tucking his head under Phil’s chin. He never in a million years let himself believe, or even _dream_ that one day Phil would call him his boyfriend. Yet here he is, sobbing against his chest because he’s just done it. He’s called him not just a boy, but his _boyfriend_. In that moment, he feels like his chest is going to erupt from all of the euphoria and relief and pure adrenaline flooding through him.

Phil pulls him backwards, falling back onto the bed. Their bed.

“How long have you known?” Phil whispers, pulling back and cupping Dan’s face in his hands.

“Years. A few years,” he admits shakily, and Phil pulls him forward, briefly connecting their lips. When he pulls back, Dan stares back at him dazedly. If he’s being honest, he had begun to prepare himself for the prospect that he’d never experience that again.

“You should have told me sooner, you can trust me with anything. You know that, right?” he asks, searching Dan’s face with a sad expression, slowly caressing the his cheek with his thumb. Dan nods, shifting his gaze downwards.

“I know, I just… This wasn’t some little secret, this was huge. This is a big part of who I am, and that’s fucking terrifying to open up about to anyone, it took me twenty years to figure it out for myself,” Dan says. “It’s been so hard just doing this, I don’t know how I’ll be able to say this publicly, or to my parents, oh _god_ , my parents, I-”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, love. You don’t have to think about that yet, I don’t think you want to or need to,” Phil stops him, and Dan nods slowly, shutting his eyes. There’s a peaceful silence, both of them just letting all of what’s just happened to settle.

“Dan?”

His breathing stutters, another rush of euphoria hitting him, because fuck, Phil just used his name, his _real_ name, for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Why choose now to tell me? Why not before tour? Before the books?” Phil asks, and Dan sighs, opening his eyes once more.

“I wasn’t anywhere near ready when tour started, but once it did everything became really overwhelming really fast. Constant misgendering from thousands of people almost every day really takes a toll on you,” he explains. “But then tour had already started, and I knew if I came out in the midst of the tour nothing good could come of it. So I waited.”

“Was that why you had a breakdown during tour?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, and there’s another brief silence. He looks back up at Phil, playing with the fabric of his shirt. “I actually started taking testosterone a little more than a week ago.”

Phil’s eyes go wide, and he pulls Dan tight to him again, rolling them over, which makes Dan yelp.

“Are you serious? That’s incredible, holy shit,” he says, voice full of pride. After a moment his smile drops slightly. “I wish I could have been with you for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan whispers, his gut twisting.

“No, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to be sorry, this is a big deal for you,” Phil backpedals, hugging him again. “You just have to promise that I can come with you to your next appointment.”

Dan grins, pulling out of the hug to stare at Phil. What did he do to ever deserve this gorgeous, wonderful, understanding man?

“Deal.”

A comfortable silence falls over the room, Phil trailing his fingers under Dan’s hoodie and caressing his side in random soothing patterns. After a few minutes, Dan’s heart seems to return to normal, and he simply relishes in just how lucky he is to be where he is. He loves Phil more than he can ever attempt to express in words. He still can’t believe that this is actually happening at that this isn’t some sort of cruel dream his mind has thought up, but the weight of Phil’s chest against his and the fingers on his hips assure him otherwise. Phil chooses then to move forward, giving him one of the most gentle and loving kisses he’s ever received, and he quickly reciprocates.

“I hope you know I love you more than anything in the world. I would never leave you over something like this, your gender doesn't define you,” he says upon pulling back. “You’re _you_ , and that’s why I love you.”

Dan lets out a watery laugh, wiping away the beginnings of even more tears before resting his forehead against Phil’s.

“I love you, too. So fucking much, _god_ , I can’t even begin to describe it. I wouldn’t want to spend my life with anyone else,” he replies, and Phil smiles, pecking his lips once more.

“That’s good to know,” he says. He goes quiet for a moment, looking into Dan’s eyes as if searching for something. He traces circles against Dan’s hip subconsciously, and after a moment sighs. “I was actually going to propose to you a few days ago.”

Dan chokes, pushing Phil back slightly and propping himself up on his arm so that he can stare at him from a distance where he can actually see his face clearly.

“Are you serious?” he breathes, his heart racing once more. His hands are slightly shaky again, but this time more so out of excitement and shock than anxiety.

“Completely. I’ve had the ring hidden in the back of my sock drawer for a few months. I was planning on taking you out to dinner the night you left and then I came home to see your note,” Phil explains, and Dan just stares open mouthed at him, new, happy tears beginning to spring to the edges of his vision. Phil looks down, looking nervous. “Would it be inappropriate and/or too unconventional if I were to ask you to marry me now?”

“You’d still want to marry me, even after all this?”

“Of course? It’s not like you’re a completely different person or anything, you’re just not a girl. And yes, while that’ll take a bit of getting used to, something like that could never stop me from wanting to marry you,” Phil says, and that’s all it takes for Dan to dive against his chest once more, rolling them over again as he connects their lips. He feels as if his heart is burning, unable to even begin expressing how in love he is with the man in front of him, and joy is coursing thick in his veins. It’s a few moments before they pull away, and Phil grins up at him.

“Would that be a yes?” he asks, and Dan can’t do anything but nod, his tears spilling over as he lets out a watery giggle. Phil pulls him into a tight embrace, both of them grinning and crying and laughing over the fact that _this_ is how it happened in the end.

Sure, there’s still the matter of their families, subscribers, and online personas, but that can all be worked through later. In that moment, all they care about is that Dan can now live as his true self, and they’re engaged. All other things can wait.

* * *

 

For the next two months, Dan goes into a hiatus. He only announces it through a single tweet posted a couple days after coming out to Phil:

**@yazisnotonfire: sorry guys, some personal stuff is going on right now so i’ll be leaving for a few months. don't worry, i’m fine and i’ll be back asap!**

The same message is posted to his community feed on YouTube and his other social media , and then he goes silent. Phil is still active on the other hand, leading people to begin asking him what’s going on with Dan. At first he answers a couple, saying that everything is alright and trying to avoid dead naming him but eventually gives up answering them all together to avoid it. He does laugh when people ask if they’ve broken up, assuring them that that’s not at all the case, but people continue to worry.

It’s not after another two months that the hiatus finally closes with a single tweet on the morning of March 31st. No one expects the notification saying that “@danielhowell” has tweeted a photo, and people worldwide scramble to open Twitter and see just what that means. What they find is a collection of four photos, two selfies and two others that seem to have been taken by Phil.

The first is a selfie of Dan grinning, seemingly taken just after a haircut. The sides of his head are neatly shaved with squared off sideburns, now with a shorter curly mop coming down to just past his eyebrows.  The second is a picture of Dan sitting on a table in a doctor's office, preparing to give himself an injection. The third is another selfie of both Dan and Phil smiling in a fancy, dimly lit restaurant, both of them wearing fairly expensive looking button-ups. Then, the last is a picture of Dan alone, looking absolutely giddy with a trans-pride flag draped over his shoulders and something shining on the ring finger of his left hand. And of course, the caption is what ties it all together.

 **@danielhowell: so, i guess there’s something i should probably tell you all… happy #transdayofvisibility** **❤**


End file.
